


The Wife of a King

by thatoldeblackmagic



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sort of? - Freeform, my undying love for mrs bradley in text format, my wife understands says a dying king bradley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 17:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoldeblackmagic/pseuds/thatoldeblackmagic
Summary: She doesn’t quite understand how all these people can think her so ignorant.  Though alchemist she most certainly is not, she was married to the man they’re now calling “Wrath” for over 30 years.  Do they really think he never took off his eye patch for the entirety of their marriage?  Do these people truly believe she is unaware that he was essentially off the grid up until the age of 25?Maybe these people wish to believe her ignorant because it is easier to feel sorry for ‘an unknowing victim of circumstance’ than ‘the woman who loved a monster’.





	The Wife of a King

She doesn’t quite understand how all these people can think her so ignorant. Though alchemist she most certainly is not, she was married to the man they’re now calling “Wrath” for over 30 years. Do they really think he never took off his eye patch for the entirety of their marriage? Do these people truly believe she is unaware that he was essentially off the grid up until the age of 25? 

Maybe these people wish to believe her ignorant because it is easier to feel sorry for ‘an unknowing victim of circumstance’ than ‘the woman who loved a monster’. 

They view her with pity and believe her to be an idiot, but she understands. Her and her husband learned to communicate through words left unspoken because a dangerous force was lurking just beyond her comprehension, yet completely surrounded his. She acts normal, has acted normal, because to ask questions is to invite despair and if anything happened to her husband because of her selfish desire for details that she probably wouldn’t be able to comprehend anyway, she couldn’t live with herself. 

Though, admittedly, she would have liked to been more in the know during that events that preceded her husband’s death. She had never even heard the word homunculus until Edward Elric came to her with the small bundle that contained her second love, and looked at her with such pain, sorrow, and exhaustion that it made her heart ache. He had tried to explain, in the stunted half-words of a 16 year old who had seen far too much yet felt too strongly to be blunt and break her heart, what happened to her boy. What happened to her husband. 

She couldn’t help but cry. For the loss of her true love, for the gain of her only son, and for all the people who died at their hands. 

He stayed with her for a bit, still bandaged and beaten from the fight that saved all their lives, and consoled her in that awkward yet endearing way of his. She still appreciates it more than he will ever know.

It’s a bit of a different story when Colonel Roy Mustang and Riza come to visit her. He shows up without warning two days after her husband’s death, with all the pomp and circumstance of a man who is desperately trying to fake it 'til he makes it. She’s aware that he’s lost his sight, but he walks with the same confident stride she’s witnessed countless times before. The only small tell anything is different is the way Riza follows half a step closer than previously, her eyes fixed upon her colonel’s back rather that the path in front of her. The almost indiscernible show of concern is so familiar and sweet that it makes her smile for the first time in days. 

Roy Mustang is some strange mix of gentle and diplomatic. He skirts around the words “wrath” and “homunculus” and “dead” with a seemingly effortless grace that is only bellied by the way his spine is ramrod straight to the point of looking physically uncomfortable. It must be hard to read people’s tells with a total lack of visual cues. 

“Colonel Mustang.” She says, making sure to inject warmth into her words. “You may think otherwise, but I know my husband. I’m a bit fuzzy on the specifics for my own safety more than anything, but there is no need to sugarcoat your words with me. So please Colonel, tell me what happened.” 

The wire holding up his core seemingly snaps as tension bleeds from his frame. He blinks once, twice in surprise, and somehow being blind has made his eyes more expressive. She catches Riza’s small smile at this blatant display of relief, and thinks not for the first time that she should invite Riza over for tea. 

Mustang’s entire frame relaxes slightly into the couch, and he begins to talk. He tells her of her husbands deeds and misdeeds, her son’s role in all of this, the story of how a 16 year old boy punched a god in the face and changed destiny. He tells her of his plans for the country, and the falsehood it must believe in order to move forward.

This time she doesn’t cry. It’s a relief to finally be able to connect the dots and make sense of the muted secrecy exuded by her one love from the day he decided he was maybe in love with her back. Instead, she goes to Mustang, takes his hands and says, “You have given me such a gift that I have no words to adequately thank you. My heart can finally be at peace because of what you’ve done for me today.”

His blank eyes go wide. He grips her hands tightly and replies, “I’ve only given you the truth, and a sad truth at that. I’ve done nothing to earn your gratitude and even less to be worthy of it.”

It’s no wonder that people have dedicated their lives to this man when he says things like that with a total, transparent honesty that is so rarely found in anyone nowadays. She makes a mental note to extend her tea invitation to Mustang as well. “You have given me the truth when no one else bothered to. Whether or not you think you’re worthy of my gratitude, you have it.”

He looks so guileless and surprised that she can’t help but be enamored. He will do great things for this country, she thinks and can feel herself soften to this man who will take her husband’s place. 

They both come for tea a week later, with Mustang’s sight restored and Riza still walking a half-step closer. She can’t help but catch Riza’s eye with a small knowing smile, which is returned with a stoic glance away and an almost imperceptible quirk of the lips. It makes something in her heart sing to know that a love like this can still grow in the aftermath of catastrophe. 

The weeks pass quickly, Selim’s growth outpacing them by a longshot, and to most of the country she’s known as a tragic survivor, a brave widow betrayed by her own people.

She quickly learns to prefer the people who know her as “The homunculus’ wife”.


End file.
